David Vann's fourth novel is the story of one weekend in 1978 when three men and a boy go hunting in Northern California. The 11-year-old tells the tale from a point in his adult future, as he paces in his small apartment and remembers that weekend as the beginning of the end: "The dead take everything away."
The adult fully intrudes only twice, which is enough for us to know that his life continues warped and distrustful, and that every prediction made for him by his father, his grandfather and his father's best friend, Tom, the only character to be named, has come true. "You've ruined your life. You may live another 80 years, and every one of those years is destroyed by this."
The motherless narrator has already been hunting for two years on the annual expeditions to their 260ha in the mountains. They camp out, hunt deer and shoot at anything that moves. "We were always killing something." There are rules though, set down on the conduct and ritual of hunting and as atavistic as the worst excesses of the Bible. The liver of the first buck must be eaten, the still-warm heart bitten into.
"No guidance is possible from the Bible," the narrator tells us. "Only confusion." A Sunday school pupil for as long as he can remember, his other education is presumably sparse.
Jesus is the only god-like figure to have walked among mankind, the only possible conduit to the spiritual world, and he fails dismally.